Part 2

“Sir George Rodney before he killed himself— What shall I do that am undone, Where shall I fly myself to shunne? Ah mee! myselfe must kill, And yet I die against my will. In starry letters I behold My death in the Heavens enrolled. There finde it wrytt in skyes above That I (poore I) must die for love. ’Twas not my love deserved to die, O no! it was unworthy I. I for her love should not have dyde, But that I had no worth beside. Ah mee! that love such woe procures, For without her no love endures. I for her vertues her doe serve, Doth such a love a death deserve?”

Lady Hertford presented a bell to the parish of Amesbury. An inscription on it runs thus:—

“Be stronge in faythe, prayes God well. Frances, Countess Hertford’s bell.”

[Picture: Kent House]

After the Seymour period, the Amesbury estates passed through different hands, belonging in 1720 to Henry, Lord Carleton; he having purchased them from Charles, Lord Bruce, son of the Earl of Ailesbury. Lord Carleton left them by will to his nephew, Charles, Duke of Queensberry, in 1724, who married the charming Lady Catherine Hyde in 1720. This couple spent much time at Amesbury, altering and improving it in various ways, and entertaining their friends.

The poet Gay was a devoted friend and admirer of the Duchess, who, indeed, seems to have been an attractive woman of immense spirit and wit. She offended George II. and his Queen by her defence of Gay’s play, the _Beggars’ Opera_, and was forbidden the Court for some time; but she, standing firmly by her friend, refused to retract or alter her sentiments, and finally forced the Court to receive and forgive her. Here is a copy of her message to the King:—

“_Feb._ 27_th_, 1729.

“That the Duchess of Queensberry is surprised and well pleased the King has given her so agreeable a command as to stay from Court, where she never came for diversion, but to bestow a civility upon the King and Queen. She hopes, by such an unprecedented order as this, that the King will see as few as he wishes at his Court, particularly such as dare to think or speak truth. I dare not do otherwise, and ought not nor could not have imagin’d that it would not have been the very highest compliment that I could possibly pay the King, to endeavour to support truth and innocence in this house.

(Signed) “C. QUEENSBERRY.”

The following is an extract from a letter from Gay to Swift:—“To the lady I live with I owe my life and fortune; think of her with respect, value and esteem her as I do. She hath so much goodness, virtue, and generosity, that if you knew her you would have a pleasure in obeying her as I do.” In another letter from Gay to Swift, the former presses his coming to join the party at Amesbury, saying (speaking of the Duchess):—“I think her so often in the right, you will have great difficulties to persuade me she is in the wrong. The lady of the house is not given to show civility to those she does not like. She speaks her mind and loves truth, for the uncommonness of the thing. I fancy your curiosity will prevail over your fear, and you will like to see such a woman. But I say no more till I know whether her Grace will fill up the rest of the paper.” P.S. by the Duchess: “Write I must, particularly now, as I have an opportunity to indulge my predominant passion of Contradiction. I do, in the first place, contradict most things Mr. Gay says of me to deter you from coming here, which, if ever you do, I hereby assure you that, unless I like my own way better, you shall have yours; and in all disputes you shall convince me if you can. But, by what I see of you, this is not a misfortune that will always happen, for I find you a great mistaker. For example, you take prudence for imperiousness. ’Tis from this I first determined not to like one who is too giddy-headed for me to be certain whether or no I shall ever be acquainted with him. I have known people take great delight in building castles in the air; but I should choose to build friendship on a more solid foundation. I would fain know you, for I often hear more likeable things than ’tis possible any one can deserve. Pray come that I may find out something wrong, for I, and I believe most women, have an inconceivable pleasure to find out any faults except their own.” P.S.—“Mr. Gay is very peevish that I spell and write ill, but I don’t care, for neither the pen nor I can do better!”

[Picture: The Diamond]

This Duchess also attracted the attention of Prior, who wrote the well-known ballad:—

THE FEMALE PHAETON.

I.

Thus Kitty beautiful and young, And wild as colt untam’d, Bespoke the Fair from whence she sprung With little rage inflam’d.

II.

Inflam’d with rage at sad restraint, Which wise mamma ordained, And sorely vex’d to play the saint Whilst wit and beauty reigned.

III.

“Shall _I_ thumb holy books confin’d With Abigails forsaken? Kitty’s for other things design’d, Or I am much mistaken.

IV.

“Must Lady Jenny frisk about And visit with her cousins? At ball must _she_ make all the rout And bring home hearts by dozens?

V.

“What has _she_ better pray than I, What hidden charms to boast, That all mankind for her should die While I am scarce a toast?

VI.

“Dearest mamma, for once let me Unchain’d my fortune try: I’ll have an Earl as well as she Or know the reason why.

VII.

“I’ll soon with Jenny’s pride quit score, Make all her lovers fall; They’ll grieve I was not loos’d before, _She_ I was loos’d at all.”

VIII.

Fondness prevailed, mamma gave way, Kitty, at heart’s desire, Obtained the chariot for a day And set the world on fire.

This lady’s luck and happiness appear to vanish in later life, both her sons meeting tragic deaths; the eldest, Viscount Drumlanrig, shooting himself, the second, Lord Charles Douglas, dying of consumption at Amesbury, having just escaped the perils of the great earthquake at Lisbon.

The Duchess died July 19th, 1777, aged 77, and the Duke the following year.

The title of Duke of Queensberry descended to the Duke’s cousin, William, Earl of March and Raglin. In 1778 he succeeded his cousin Charles as 4th Duke of Queensberry, and in 1786 was created a British peer, taking the title of Baron Douglas of Ambresbury. This eccentric nobleman never married, and was commonly known by the nickname of “Old Q.” He died in 1810, the Amesbury estate passing to Archibald, Lord Douglas of Douglas, whose executors sold it in 1824 to Sir Edmund Antrobus, Bart., my husband’s great-great-uncle.

No record is to be found of the destruction of the Abbey, Lord Hertford apparently building himself a house in Amesbury. In “Vitruvius Britannicus” there is a picture of a fine mansion in the Palladian style, built for Lord Carleton from designs by Inigo Jones, the architect being Mr. Webb, nephew of Inigo Jones.

The Queensberrys added wings to this house, and caused a beautiful bridge to span the river Avon, which runs through the grounds. A pretty old house stands in the park, near an old entrance: tradition tells us the Duchess of Queensberry used this lodge as a dairy. It possesses two octagon rooms (one over the other), and an underground passage is supposed to connect it with the river. The park is small, but extremely pretty; one enters it through splendid old gates supported by Palladian pillars.

Opposite the dwelling house is a high bank cut into a fantastic shape and known as “The Diamond.” The cave in which the poet Gay loved to write is hollowed in this bank. The wild-bird-frequented Avon {18} runs below, and above it is crowned by a beautiful wood planted over what is called “Vespasian’s Camp.” In this wood are found two avenues of beech-trees, and walking through the old deer park and across the Downs, at a mile and a half’s distance, glorious Stonehenge bursts upon one.

Returning to Amesbury, and following the course of the river in the opposite direction, one comes upon a little house built of flints, with quaint pointed roof and tower, in which the floor of a small upper chamber is found to be movable; outside, over a door, the stone moulding bears this inscription:

“Diana, her hovs—1600.”

Diana certainly possessed a picturesque dwelling, but I can find no clue to her identity. After the death of the last Duke of Queensberry, Amesbury House remained uninhabited for sixty years, except during the tenancy of Sir Elijah Impey, and when some French nuns occupied it for a short period.

My husband’s grandfather, on inheriting Amesbury from his uncle (the first Sir Edmund Antrobus), wished to enlarge and restore the old house, but finding it in too dilapidated a state, decided to pull it down, and in 1838 began to build an entirely new house (closely resembling the old one) of handsome cut stone, with a grand loggia, supported by beautiful pillars and ornamented with carved stonework of fine design. This house is supposed to stand on the site of the old Abbey, and many traces of cells were discovered, underground, when digging foundations. To-day not a single stone of the old Abbey remains above ground to remind us of its former existence and splendour; it having once covered, tradition says, a space of thirteen acres.

* * * * *

NOTE.—Some beautiful coloured tiles decorated with different intricate patterns were dug up near the present house at Amesbury. We suppose them to be from the cells of the old Abbey. Some have designs of the _Fleur-de-lys_ on them.

PRICELESS STONEHENGE—SOME IMPRESSIONS.

(From _Ladies’ Realm_ Magazine.)

THE Great Druidical Temple, or (as some hold) Phœnician Observatory, composed of gigantic, beautifully-coloured, hewn stones, stands in the middle of Salisbury Plain. These stones have been measured, counted, defaced, praised, depreciated, commented upon, by numerous authorities on countless occasions, but (to my knowledge) no account of their poetical and picturesque aspects, at different seasons of the year, has been attempted. I shall feel satisfied if I succeed in conveying feebly in words what David Cox (the artist) did ably in colours, with his glowing brush. I do not propose to enter into any statistics, as to the “Market value of Stonehenge to the nation,” or to tell you the number of miles that lie between it and the town of Salisbury, the goodness or inferiority of the roads to it, the number of visiting tourists, &c.; I only wish to place before you some impressions I have felt of its grandeur and charm, through many seasons, in all sorts of weather, and varying moods.

There is always a constant surprise and delight to me in the manner in which Stonehenge bursts upon one, approach it as one may, from various points across the undulating Plain which surrounds it. Starting upon one’s “Pilgrim’s Path” to visit it, from any side, at first there is nothing to be seen but the crisp crackling grass underfoot, and the white glittering roads; then, as one advances nearer, unexpectedly, dark, mysterious forms seem to start up, which gradually shape themselves into the incompleted circle we call “Stonehenge.”

The late spring, and early summer, are enchanting periods; myriads of starry white flowers, and gorgeous yellow and blue ones, wave together with a glowing harmony of colour, as they are swayed by soft breezes, whilst a “Hallelujah Chorus” of skylarks sing overhead, making the air full of scent and sound. In this setting, the old stones seem all yellow and grey in the brilliant sunshine. Picturesque shepherds, wrapped in their great dark-blue cloaks, appear upon the horizon; tinkling sheep bells are heard, reminding one of the Roman Campagna; evening falling, brings a sense of peace and stillness, chimes from the old Church at Amesbury float across the valley. The light comes and goes, and the world seems far away.

[Picture: Stonehenge and a Great Trilithon]

* * * * *

To my mind the magic of Stonehenge is never more powerfully felt than during the wild, tempestuous autumnal gales, that usually sweep across the Plain in October. Great clouds roll above, enfolding the circle in a shadowy purple mantle, sometimes tipped with gold. Thoughts rise up suddenly, of the many tragedies, feasts, sacrifices, mysterious rites that must have been enacted here in far-off bygone days. One wonders if beautiful golden-haired Guinevere passed this way, on her flight to safety, at the Convent at “Ambresbury” (the Land of Ambrosius), or if sad King Arthur tarried there on his lonely homeward journey?

I prefer to picture to myself, Stonehenge, in happy, thoughtless Pagan days, Druid priests and priestesses forming grand processions; crossing the “rushing Avon” and winding up from the valley to Stonehenge, clothed in pure white, and holding gleaming sickles in their hands, chanting hymns on their way to perform the sacred rite of cutting the mistletoe. Perhaps they sang and chanted through the short summer night, waiting for the sun to rise (over the pointed outlying stone) on the day which marks the solar half-year (June 21st), and which bathes the altar-stone in golden light. Probably this was the signal for sacrifice, the death of the victim, and the appeasing of wrathful gods. In mid-winter the stones appear like black masses, in the midst of driving snows. The least interesting time of year, in this enchanted place, is the bright, clear, commonplace summer, when no mysteries abound (except by moonlight). The old gods are sleeping, everything is orderly, agriculture and its implements surround us, and Romance seems dead for the moment. Farewell.

FLORENCE CAROLINE MATHILDE ANTROBUS.

In approaching’ the momentous and deeply interesting subject of Stonehenge, I considered it best and wisest to collect the thoughts and opinions of several learned authors on this subject, and submit them to the reader, who thus will have an opportunity of comparing for himself the truth and merits of the different theories presented to him for judgment.

Various explanations of the name “Stonehenge” have been forthcoming; but the true etymological significance seems to be: A.S. “Stàn,” used as an adjective, and “henge,” from A.S. “hòn” _i.e._, stone hanging-places, from the groups of stones resembling a gallows. This was long ago suggested by Wace, the Anglo-Norman poet, who writes:—

“Stanhengues ont nom en Englois Pierres pendues en François.”

As to the date of Stonehenge, opinions vary. It is supposed Hecatæus (500 B.C.) mentioned it as the “Round Temple” (Translation of Extract from Diodorus Siculus, about B.C. 8).

Hecatæus, the Milesian, and others, have handed down to us the following story:—“Over against Gaul, in the great ocean stream, is an island not less in extent than Sicily, stretching towards the north. The inhabitants are called Hyperboreans, because their abode is more remote from us than that wind we call Boreas. It is said that the soil is very rich and fruitful, and the climate so favourable that there are two harvests in every year. Their fables say that Latona was born in this island, and on that account they worship Apollo (Apollo would signify the sun to the Latins) before all other divinities, and celebrate his praise in daily hymns, conferring the highest honours upon their bards, as being his priests. There is in this island a magnificent temple to this god, circular in form, and adorned with many splendid offerings. And there is also a city sacred to Apollo, inhabited principally by harpers, who in his temple sing sacred verses to the god, accompanied by the harp, in honour of his deeds.

“The language of the Hyperboreans is peculiar, and they are singularly well affected towards the Greeks, and have been so from the most remote times, especially to those of Athens and Delos. It is even said that some Greeks have travelled thither, and presented offerings at their temple inscribed with Grecian characters. They also say that Abaris in former times went thence to Greece, to renew their ancient friendship with the Delians. It is related, moreover, that in this island the moon appears but a short way from the earth, and to have little hills upon it. Once in nineteen years (and this period is what we call the Great Year) they say that their god visits the island; and from the Vernal Equinox to the rising of the Pleiades, all the night through, expresses his satisfaction at his own exploits by dances and by playing on the harp.

“Both the City and the Temple are presided over by the Boreadœ, the descendants of Boreas, and they hand down the power in regular succession in their family.”

The first author who is considered to make unmistakable mention of Stonehenge is Henry of Huntingdon (twelfth century). In his Chronicle he speaks of it as the second wonder of England, and calls it Stanenges. Geoffrey of Monmouth (1138) wrote of it about the same time; he believed it to have been erected by Aurelius Ambrosius, King of Britain, and called it Hengist’s Stones. Giraldus Cambrensis, a contemporary of Geoffrey, also makes mention of it.

Among more modern authors, may be quoted Sir Philip Sidney’s lines:—

“Near Wilton sweet, huge heaps of stones are found, But so confused that neither any eye Can count them first, nor reason try What force them brought to so unlikely ground.”

Then Wharton’s sonnet:—

“Thou noblest monument of Albion’s isle! Whether by Merlin’s aid from Scythia’s shore To Amber’s fatal plain Pendragon bore, Huge frame of giant hands, the mighty pile, To entomb his Britain’s slain by Hengist’s guile; Or Druid priests, sprinkled with human gore, Taught ’mid thy massy maze their mystic lore; Or Danish chiefs, enriched with savage spoil, To victory’s idle vast, an unhewn shrine, Reared the rude heap; or in thy hallowed round Repose the kings of Brutus’ genuine line; Or here those kings in solemn state were crowned Studious to trace thy wondrous origin, We muse on many an ancient tale renowned.”

To descend to prose. Langtoft, in his Chronicle, says:—“A wander wit of Wiltshire, rambling to Rome, to gaze at antiquities, and there screwing himself into the company of antiquarians, they entreated him to illustrate unto them that famous monument in his country called Stonage. His answer was that he had never seen it. Whereupon they kicked him out of doors, and bade him go home and see Stonage.”

The immortal Pepys says the stones are “as prodigious as any tales I have ever heard of them, and worth going this journey to see.”

The archæologist, Mr. Edmund Story Maskelyne, fixes the date of Stonehenge at 900 or 1000 B.C. I quote what he says from a lecture, read 1897, “On the Age and Purpose of Stonehenge”:—

“It is of consequence that we should recognize that Stonehenge was built about nine or ten hundred years B.C., and not 700 A.D., as many writers would have us believe. For instance, Dr. W. M. Flinders Petrie, in his book, ‘Stonehenge, 1880,’ states his opinion that it was erected A.D. 700±200, that is, between A.D. 500 and 900. The date of Stonehenge will be of great interest if there is found at Avebury remains sufficiently perfect to determine astronomically the date when that monument was erected. For it cannot be but interesting to ascertain when the two cults—that of the sun, pure and simple, as exemplified in the original Temple at Stonehenge; and the cult of the sun in connexion with the serpent, as exhibited at Avebury—respectively prevailed in this country.”

Mr. Story Maskelyne’s reasons for his theory that Stonehenge was built by the Phœnicians are as follows:—

“I should like to add some reasons for my belief that Stonehenge was built by the Phœnicians. In the first place, I cannot think of any other people that could have either designed or executed such a monument, which required both science for its conception and skill for its erection. The Phœnicians, with their perfect familiarity with masts, and cordage, and pulleys, could easily lift the imposts, of which the largest—being about 11 ft. long, 4 or 6 wide, and 3 ft. thick—would weigh less than ten tons; and the Phœnicians must have known how the Egyptians raised masses of stone many times heavier.

“The trilithon {24} standing clear seems to have had some fascination for these people. They are found still standing in Tripoli in Libya, as described in ‘The Hill of the Graces,’ a record of investigation among the Trilithons and Megalithic sites of Tripoli by Mr. Cowper, F.S.A., 1897, and specimens exist on the Continent of Europe, in Normandy and in Brittany. One may be seen in the Island of Ushant, and another in St. Nazaire on the probable route they adopted for the passage of tin.

[Picture: Great Circle and Leaning Stone, as it was—now upright]

“Another peculiarity can be seen to this day by any one at Stonehenge in the large trilithon impost, namely, that the under surfaces of the imposts which rested on the uprights are smoothly cut and slightly bevelled, so as to throw the principal weight of the mass of the impost on its outside edge, thus excluding rain, &c., and this very contrivance was employed by the Egyptians in the pyramids, and it is certain that the Phœnicians had free intercourse with Egypt. Finally, the Phœnicians had founded Cadiz, their Gadir in the eleventh century B.C., more than two centuries before the date which, from astronomical considerations, I assign for the building of Stonehenge. We know that they sailed along the shores of Spain and Gaul and to the Baltic, and though they preferred coasting as a rule, the straight cut across from Cherbourg to Poole or Christchurch in fine weather would not be a long voyage; and as they certainly did trade with Britain, and it must have been hazardous for British coracles to sail across the open sea, laden with tin, we may conclude that Phœnician ships did cross the Channel. We know also that the Phœnicians made, more or less, homes for themselves wherever they landed; and it is probable that they did so at Poole or Christchurch, also that they would build them a temple where they found it convenient to stay.”